Explains Freedom
by S.K. Millz
Summary: He's just a sheep in wolf's clothing.


Explains Freedom

S.K. Millz

* * *

Morning, Star Wolf.

No breakfast in bed? What gives?

Fox laughed snidely. You're an idiot, he said.

I dont disagree.

Wolf watched them enter the room through a small hatch door in the white stone wall, casting a pale cone of light onto the hard chalk floor before them. Fox McCloud and Krystal Buranetto. His captors, his interrogators.

How'd you sleep? Fox asked.

Wolf propped himself on one elbow and waggled a clawed finger dismissively. Where's your manners Fox? Aint ye gonna introduce me to your ladyfriend?

Maybe some other time, Fox snarled, taking Krystal by the arm. Just pretend she's not even here.

You make it sound so easy.

Fox nodded and sipped his coffee. Strike one, he muttered.

Didnt know you were keepin track. I'd better watch my mouth huh.

They were more than just friends. Even Wolf could see that, apathetic as he was.

You didnt answer my question, Fox said after a while.

How'd I sleep? I think you already know the answer to that one.

I know. I just want to hear you say it.

Krystal folded her arms. Wolf watched her emptily through his one green eye. Like a baby, he said.

Fox laughed again and it was a harsh disquieting laugh. You ready to talk business?

Business? Ye mean like politics?

I mean like who hired you and for how much.

Wolf snorted. Caint a guy sightsee round Corneria without gettin hisself detained?

Not with an Arwing full of guns and thermite.

You caint link me to that stuff.

That's the beauty of our system, Fox grinned. I dont have to.

Wolf laid back down on his paperthin cot and gazed blankly at the high vented ceiling. I didnt do nothin wrong, he said.

Krystal stood studying the zipper on her jacket. Fox wrapped one arm about her shoulders and ushered her toward the door.

You'll sing soon enough O'Donnell, he said. We control the temperature in this room. Expect the air to get a lot colder if I walk out of here tomorrow with anything less than a name. Try and get some sleep. Who knows. Maybe we'll fix you breakfast in the morning.

Thanks. I like my eggs scrambled with ketchup.

* * *

Morning, Star Wolf.

Yeah, if ye say so.

Good news. I pulled some strings and got you breakfast, just like I promised.

To be fair you didnt promise me nothin.

Nevertheless, Fox said, sliding a plate of lumpy gray goo across the cold stone floor. I got it for you.

Dont look like eggs to me.

It's a grain compound. Should keep you full for a while.

You eat this stuff?

Never tried it. Maybe you can tell me how it tastes.

Wolf eyed him wearily as he bent over the plate, prodding the pile of cold gray slime with one finger and studying it in the soft white light. He scarfed it down begrudgingly in great goopy handfuls, stomach grumbling irritably, holding his breath.

Krystal entered through the open hatch and gave Fox a little peck on the cheek. Wolf watched her out of the corner of his eye and kept on eating.

Fox didnt notice. How is it? he asked.

Not sure, Wolf mumbled. If ye juiced a potato it'd probably taste a lot like this.

Fox laughed. There's plenty more where that came from.

Wolf looked up from his plate, a long slimy strand dangling from the corner of his mouth. I'll take your word for it, he said.

Had any time to think about that name?

Wolf cleared his throat and started scratching absentmindedly at a long black cut on his ankle. What name?

The name of your supplier, whoever sent you here.

What if I dont have a supplier. What if I'm the supplier.

Then you're in a lot of trouble.

And if I do have one, a supplier?

You're still in a lot of trouble.

So either way I'm in it up to here, Wolf muttered, arching an eyebrow.

Yeah. Either way.

Thanks for the food. Might tell em to be a little more liberal with the salt next time.

Dont test my patience O'Donnell.

Orange juice. Got any orange juice to wash it down?

Right now it's fifty degrees in here. Tomorrow it's down to thirty.

In that case how about some footy pajamas?

Fox just laughed and turned and stormed angrily out of the cell. Krystal followed after him, hesitating at the hatch, glancing back into the cold blue darkness before she closed the door. Wolf thought he saw her smile.

* * *

Morning, Star Wolf. How'd you sleep?

He was trembling, sitting crosslegged on the floor hugging himself for warmth.

Slept good, he mumbled, teeth chattering. Had dreams. Lotsa dreams.

What kind of dreams?

Fun ones. Dont remember none but one of em.

Really. What was it about?

Wolf shivered, slowly raising his one good eye to the tapestry of crisp white light emanating from the doorway. He waited for Krystal to enter the room before he spoke.

I was sittin on a balcony just starin out at the sun, watchin it set down below the treetops, big and red and clear. Just sittin there all alone. I dont know where I was, not in real life. But in the dream it felt like home, felt like I'd spent my entire life sittin out there on that balcony just as I was, watchin the sun go down, crickets chirpin in that warm night air. That was my dream and I can still see it clear in my mind. Every detail. Almost like I could reach out and touch it. I aint sure what it meant, but I know I never wanted it to end.

Fox didnt move. He just stood there staring down at his captive. My guess is it's got something to do with your current situation, he said. Maybe it's a sign that you should tell us what we want to know.

Somehow I doubt that, Wolf snickered.

Krystal stood clutching her elbows, gazing at the floor.

It's cold in here, Fox said, reaching for her. She turned away from his arm.

Yeah, it's pretty cold, Wolf replied.

It can always get colder.

Wolf laid down and curled up on his cot. I thought you were supposed to be the good guys, he muttered.

We are the good guys.

Aint good guys all about justice?

We enforce justice. We interpret it.

Dont I get a trial?

You dont deserve a trial.

Not even a little one?

You're an anarchist.

I'm a stray dog escaped from the pound waitin to be euthanized.

Like I said, you dont deserve a trial.

You're right, Wolf murmured. I dont deserve a trial. I deserve to be tortured. I deserve to be starved. I deserve to be stripsearched and fingerprinted and profiled, but I dont deserve a trial. That's true justice.

You dont understand O'Donnell. All I want is a name.

Wolf rolled over in his cot. He could feel their eyes.

You asked for it, Fox snapped. Tonight the temperature hits zero. If you're lucky you wont make it through the night.

After they left Wolf could hear the fans whirring to life in the ducts overhead and he just lay there swallowed up in that pitchblue darkness trembling.

* * *

There was a hissing in the air as the hatch creaked open and a dull carpet of artificial light rolled out across the hard stone floor. She shuddered in the fierce and punishing cold, eyes watering, nose running.

She made her way into the room and knelt down next to his coiled motionless form. He was barely breathing. She reached across his shoulder and touched his freezing hand, felt the blunt shapeless claws, like worn blades, cracked and bloodied down to nubs. They said he'd tried to scratch his way out during the night.

She gathered him in her arms and dragged his frail shivering body over the smooth gray stone and out into the foyer and sealed the heavy metal doors behind them. Only five minutes before the cameras rebooted. She carried him to the furnace room where it was warm and safe and quiet and laid him gently on the concrete floor below the vents and breathed a long anxious sigh. Then she sat down against the wall and hung her head and watched silently as he slept, bathing in that warm thick air, his arms and legs slowly unfurling.

He wore an olivecolored smock with flared sleeves and oversized shorts that hung all the way down to his shins. Prison garb. Dirty and ragged and full of holes. She watched his chest go up and down. He was breathing much deeper now, basking in that heat.

Sirens would soon wail frantically over the prison yard, giant floodlights panning through the hills, newsmedia scrambling to remind all of Corneria that aiding and abetting a known terrorist was tantamount to treason.

Krystal wasnt ready. She locked the door and sealed it shut with a section of pipe. Then she sat watching him stir.

Wolf opened his one good eye. He stretched his long thin arms and fixed his ears to the static whir of the raging furnace, heartbeat throbbing in his temples. He saw her in the corner, watching him without a smile, without anything at all.

Somewhere in his mind he knew this was all a dream. When he felt his strength return he rose and stood breathing in the red, savoring the warmth. Dragging his bare feet as if they were chained to some cumbersome weight he turned and slid shakily over the floor, claws scratching lazily at the hard colorless concrete. He towered over her, gazing down into her dark blue eyes, peering through her silent empty features, feeling her.

The whirring of the furnace thundered in his ears. He took her by the arm, pulled her to her feet, pinned her to the wall, kissed her warm cherry lips. His hands trembled at her waist, dragging through her light blue fur, tracing every line. His fingers slipped below her shirt and traveled up her stomach, her chest, steadied at the rise and fall of her slow and heavy breaths. He felt her ribs, felt her heart pulsing rapidly in the palm of his hand. He touched her breasts. He never left her eyes.

When he kissed her he bit her lip and broke the skin and tasted her dry sour blood on the tip of his tongue. She was not afraid of him.

They stood together for a long time.

They watched the pale orange sunset. They felt the wind rustling in their fur. They listened to the low singing of the crickets.


End file.
